The evidence of his arousal strained against his pants. He didn’t even look startled to see me standing there. Not a flicker of guilt, not a twitch of shame. He simply tucked the photograph out of sight, straightened, and faced me—expression calm, posture impeccable.
Like I hadn’t just caught him worshipping her in the dark.
I should’ve lunged for his throat. Should’ve ended it right there.
Instead, I smiled.
“Need a hand finishing that?” My voice dripped honey, every syllable lined with venom.
His gaze stayed steady. Empty. Professional. “That won’t be necessary, Young Miss,” he said evenly. “It’s a private affair.”
Of course it was.
Still Young Miss. As if I weren’t the woman who’d shared a home with him for years. As if he hadn’t sworn to protect me with his life. But then came her—Elowen, with her angel’s smile and poison-sweet scent—and suddenly, everything else vanished.
I turned away, forcing my wolf to heel even as fury trembled through me. I’d spent years begging to be chosen. That ended now.
Let Elowen play the darling bloom. I’d be the venom in its roots.
He broke the silence first. “What are you doing here?”